Blue War Paint
by Qwerts
Summary: (AU) The Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady have their story; Zuko and Katara have one of their own. The again, legend and reality can have a blurred line, especially when you're friends with the Avatar.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is sort of a new style for me, just wanted to give it a try. I did enjoy this particular AU universe, and may write a sequel that's more of a story and not just a one-shot, but I'm not sure, so for now we'll call this piece complete :) If that changes, I'll let you guys know.**

 **Also, this story has very little root in actual legend- just throwing that out there.**

* * *

 **Blue War Paint**

* * *

 _Come, huddle around the fire and I'll tell you a story. No, Sokka, not there- you'll burn your parka. Katara, I'm handling it, don't boss your brother around. Now-_

 _Oh? A third? Well, I suppose you can listen, too. Katara, don't pester the poor soul, the child only just got here. Although… I haven't seen you around before. Are you new? Oh, no need to shy away! It doesn't matter, forget I asked. I tell stories for the sake of telling, I leave the audience in the hands of the gods- Sokka, I saw you roll your eyes. Be respectful._

 _Now, on to the story! Today, I will tell you the story of the Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady. Don't be ridiculous Sokka, of course spirits have stories. You just haven't heard theirs yet. Now hush, and listen…_

* * *

Long ago, the spirits were more involved in our world than the gods. They did not roam free or stay in the spirit world as they do today- but that is another story. Back then, spirits served no one but themselves, and rarely bowed to anyone's will, not even that of the Avatar.

One such spirit was the Blue Spirit. He was something of an imp, traveling far and wide and leaving a trail of trouble. He was not by nature a cruel soul, simply an unsettled one, and he often distracted himself through pranks and annoyances. He was renowned for being hard to trace and impossible to talk to, though no one knew why.

One day he tried to steal from a large building of which he did not know the name, as spirits in those days rarely concerned themselves with the language of men. When he did, however, he was stopped by a woman in a misty veil and covered in red marking, each representing a life saved. When she spoke his language, the Blue Spirit realized she was a spirit as well.

She called herself the Painted Lady, and was one of the few who took pity on the mortals and did what she could to ease their suffering and ailments. Her help was limited, as she was a minor spirit and not a god, but it was better than nothing and she had saved many lives. She told the Blue Spirit that he was stealing from a healing center and must return what he'd taken, for the people were in need of those supplies.

The Blue Spirit refused ( _yes, Katara, I know that's not very nice. Hush_.) and disappeared into the night. Furious, the Painted Lady cursed him, saying that in _his_ day of need those closest to him would turn away and leave him in misery. The Blue Spirit heard her curse, but was unconcerned, for none were close to him.

Little did they know, a third had heard her curse and was gleeful of the Painted Lady's weakness in temper, for such a curse was just the opening that he needed. He was called Shinigami, and had hated the Blue Spirit for a long time as he had once stolen from him, but had never been able to find the clever crook. Now, however, he had an excuse to call higher powers into play.

Shinigami went to the council of gods and cried that the spirits were attacking each other, and the mortal world was soon to be in peril. The council of gods had no great concern for the mortals, but it was through their world that they had come to exist, so they agreed to lend Shinigami their power so that he might rid the world of such troublesome spirits.

Now Shinigami had the power of a god and could track the Blue Spirit, who ran in fear of anyone who could follow him for shadows had been his sanctuary for many years. With no one to turn to, the Blue Spirit ran to the Painted Lady and begged for her help.

Many years had passed since the Painted Lady had last seen the Blue Spirit, but she remembered her curse was an ashamed clarity and regretted placing it. She, too, could feel the presence of a god nearby, and agreed to help the Blue Spirit in a desperate attempt to combat her own curse.

The pair fled, and with the Painted Lady's help the Blue Spirit was able to vanish. For years they led lives on the run, and to the surprise of both, fell deeply in love. _(Sokka, don't stick your tongue out, for gods' sake child.)_

Shinigami knew he had been thwarted and was furious, so he started trapping any spirit with his new power, and locked them up in an enormous cage in the name of cleansing the world. When he finally had all of them (all but two, that is) he challenged the Blue Spirit, claiming he would release them if the Blue Spirit turned himself in.

The Blue Spirit did not want to challenge Shinigami, for he was sure to lose, but he felt it was the only way to redeem himself to the people he'd hurt. So one night, when the Painted Lady was asleep, he snuck away and met Shinigami.

The Blue Spirit was very cunning and quick, but he was not stronger than a god, and the battle quickly took Shinigami's side. Just as the sun rose, Shinigami struck a fatal blow to the Blue Spirit, who died alone and in agony, just as the curse had said he would.

The Painted Lady felt the fulfillment of her curse and woke, crying and full of self-loathing for she knew it meant she had failed. She ran to the clearing and found it empty, except for a gilded cage and the lifeless form of the Blue Spirit, still and covered in burns.

In horror of what she had done and in agony of her loss, she took the Blue Spirit's form to the council of gods. She told them what had happened and begged to follow the Blue Spirit into death.

The council was deeply moved by the sight of the broken healer and regretted their nearsightedness in trusting Shinigami. They stripped him of his power and locked him in his own gilded cage, hiding it away where he could never escape.

Then they decided to reward the spirits who'd exposed Shinigami's true nature. They created a realm where spirits could hide, should such an event ever occur again (it is called the Spirit World now) and asked the Painted Lady what they could do compensate for her loss.

She wanted nothing but a second chance for the Blue Spirit, and they complied. They could not bring him back to life, but they could give him a second life. They healed his burns (except one, the fatal mark that could not be removed) and sent him hundreds of years to the future, where he was to be reborn.

Something still bothered them, though. The Blue Spirit had learned compassion from the Painted Lady in their travels; who would teach him compassion in his new life? So they put the Painted Lady to sleep and made her mortal, sending her away as well.

In the hopes they would find each other in their new lives, they left a trail. The Blue Spirit was left in the nation associated with red, and the Painted Lady was left in the nation associated with blue. They were given powers to make up for their new mortal weaknesses, and born in a time when the mortals would benefit from their births.

This is why, hundreds of years later, two babies took their first breaths of air; one in the sharp cold of the tundra, and one in the oppressive heat of a palace.

* * *

 _Why do I share this story? Why Sokka, you know I tell for the sake- don't interrupt!_

 _Okay, okay. I admit I bring this story up for a reason. There are some who say the time of the Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady grows close- that they are destined to find each other and uncover the past while saving the future._

 _Do_ I _believe it? Of course not, Katara. A spirit, reborn a bender? Now, how silly would that be?_


	2. Discovery Bonus Scene

**A/N: So, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I've decided to say thank you to everyone who supported this story by posting a short bonus scene :) Why this one, you ask? Two reasons- one, I really liked writing for this universe. Two, this story was a new style for me, and the feedback was extra-appreciated. (Speaking of feedback, all of the questions I saw in the reviews are answered at the bottom*.)**

 **Happy reading & happy holidays! **

* * *

Zuko walked down the hall slowly, letting one hand trail along the dark wooden wall. His fingers slid smoothly over the finely crafted paint; in all his years of exile, he'd almost forgotten what it had been like to live in a palace. Almost, but not quite.

He still couldn't believe it was his home once more. With the war over, he had everything back. His home, his crown, the love of his people; he was a hero. So why did it feel like something had been overlooked?

Slowly his study door came into view. Slipping open the heavy door, Zuko walked inside, closing out the outside world. The room was fitting and relaxing for Zuko. The dark red carpets and raging fire offset the smell of ink and parchment, and gave the room a calming atmosphere of productivity and progress. It was his place to think and escape the far more stressful council room that he seemed to spend all of his hours in these days.

He stopped in front of the fireplace with his hands clasped loosely behind his back and stared into the flickering light. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he'd forgotten something important over the course of the war, that something remained unresolved. Of course, there was plenty he still had to do- restoring the good name of the Fire Nation and earning the forgiveness of the world came to mind- but thinking of those tasks didn't ease the out-of-place feeling.

And then there were the dreams. Vague recollections of hurrying through the night, the damp forest air clinging to bare feet as he fled from unknown enemies. It was always followed by the towering image of a gilded cage, big enough to fit a house into, with a lone woman standing inside, and then burning, burning, burning…

He always woke in a cold sweat. He never could remember the woman's face. He was afraid to tell anyone of the dreams, because he knew what they'd think. He was unstable. Traumatized by an abusive father and years of ceaseless war, unfit to lead.

 _Maybe they're right,_ he thought darkly. _Maybe I am losing it._ He couldn't remember having the dream during the war- but then again, he got so little sleep on the run it was impossible for any dream to stick in his memory. A few of his mother, perhaps, but little else. Naturally he'd had his fair share of nightmares as well, but those had faded as he'd grown into his place in the world.

This dream refused to fade. Zuko was sick of it. Before him, the flames flickered on, imprinting their light behind his eyelids. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes and walked over to his desk, sinking into his chair. Maybe the dream was just a sign of stress… it was possible, he supposed. After all, he _was_ Fire Lord now.

Hardly knowing why he did so, Zuko unlocked and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. There sat the sneering mask of the Blue Spirit, leering up at him. To Zuko it seemed the face taunted him, as if it was forcing him to reap the consequences of giving up that part of his life.

"I had to," he said out loud to the mask. "My people needed me. A king can't be a vigilante and a ruler." The mask offered no consolation. He missed so little of his old life, and yet… the freedom the mask had offered was tantalizingly out of reach now, an impossible dream left to the wolves.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, making Zuko jump and startling him from his recollections.

"Come in," he called, pushing the drawer shut with one foot and trying to look busy.

"Hey," said a familiar voice. Zuko looked up, an automatic smile crossing his face as he saw Katara. The waterbender shut the door softly behind her and glided over to Zuko's desk with all the grace of her element. "I should've known you'd be in here."

"Yes, I've been reading over… um, tax reports," Zuko tried, smoothing his hair back with one hand. Katara looked pointedly down at the report he held- which, to Zuko's embarrassment, was not on taxes and which he held upside down.

"I can see that," she said innocently, grinning as Zuko's face flushed red.

"I was just finishing up," he mumbled, shoving the papers to the side and quickly changing the topic. "So, what have you been up to?"

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," Katara hummed, taking a seat. "Mostly working with _your_ council to draw up trading agreements with my tribe."

"They aren't 'my' anything," Zuko snorted. "They're the favorites of the aristocracy, and some of them are going to go re-join the people on the streets if they don't try to be a little more open-minded."

"Right," Katara said. She seemed absentminded, and Zuko took a closer look at her. At a first glance, she was normal Katara- bright blue eyes, traditional water tribe robes (modified slightly for the Fire Nation heat), same easy smile playing around the corner of her lips. But closer inspection revealed purple circles beginning to form under her eyes, and her shoulders drooped with weariness. Concern shot through Zuko, as well as shame for not noticing immediately.

"Are they that exhausting?" He blurted out. "I can talk to them- remind them of their place and all."

"What?" Katara asked, confusion clouding her face briefly. Then one hand flew to her cheekbone, and she sighed. "Oh, no, that's not it. I appreciate the thought, though."

Zuko didn't bother to articulate his question; he just leaned back in his chair, raised both eyebrows, and motioned for her to continue.

"I… well, I've been having this dream," Katara admitted. "More of a nightmare, really."

"A dream," Zuko echoed, his heart skipping a beat despite himself. "What sort of dream?"

Katara gave an embarrassed laugh and looked away, not meeting his eyes. "Nothing. It's stupid."

"It's not stupid if you're losing sleep over it," Zuko argued.

"You hardly look as if you've been getting enough sleep, either," Katara pointed out. Zuko sighed.

"Yeah, I…" he trailed off. It was hypocritical for him to expect her to tell him about her dream, and not mention his own, and yet he dreaded looking weak or stupid in front of her. For whatever reason, he wanted to impress her. He couldn't risk anything that might drive her away- he was lucky she'd stayed in the Fire Nation this long as it was. All of their friends had left weeks ago to return home and glue their fragmented world back together… all of their friends, that was, except Katara.

She'd stayed as his temporary water tribe ambassador, and helped him rally his kingdom together. He didn't know what he'd have done without her, politically or otherwise. She'd held a lot more than his kingdom together over the last few months.

"I've been busy, I guess," he finished vaguely.

"Your wound isn't giving you trouble, is it?" Katara asked, concern coloring her tone. Instinctively one of Zuko's hands flew to his chest, and he felt warmth flood him. Her worry always made him feel giddy.

"No, it's fine," he said aloud. "You're a good healer." Katara smiled.

"Although…" he cleared his throat and continued, "it's probably a safe bet for you to stick around. In case, you know, it gets worse."

"Of course," Katara nodded, eyes crinkling at the corner. "I'll stay around as long as you want me to."

* * *

After another few sleepless nights, Zuko decided he had to tell _someone_ about the dream. "Someone" ended up going by the name of Iroh.

"And you never remember the woman's face?" Iroh asked, brows furrowed. The duo was seated in a pavilion outside, a kettle of tea between them on a low table.

"No."

"It sounds to me that she might unlock this dream for you," Iroh suggested, setting down his half-empty tea cup.

"That's the thing- it doesn't _feel_ like a dream," Zuko blurted. Now that the floodgates had been opened, he felt as if he had to tell everything; his mounting worry gave him little choice. "It feels like a memory."

"A memory?" Iroh echoed, eyes widening. "Really?"

"I know it sounds stupid-" Zuko fumbled, but Iroh cut him off.

"It doesn't sound stupid. In fact, an old friend of mine might be able to help. I can speak to him about it- where will I be able to find you later this afternoon? I'm afraid I'll have to get back to you on this one," Iroh said thoughtfully.

"Probably my study," Zuko sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I still have paperwork to do. It never ends."

"Ah, yes," Iroh said, a sudden gleam in his eyes. "I hear you're not allowing anyone into your study."

"Not normally, but I make an exception for you," Zuko said, waving the concern away.

"I'm not the only person you're making an exception for, or so the little birdy says," Iroh hedged, outright smiling now. "I did wonder why that young lady had stuck around."

"Katara's different," Zuko snapped, face suddenly very red. "She's not a part of this."

"If you say so. Have you told her about this dream?"

"No. She has her own dreams to worry about. I'm not going to burden her with my problems."

Iroh frowned, suddenly looking very serious. "What? Lady Katara is having dreams as well?"

"She mentioned it, but she didn't tell me what they were about," Zuko elaborated, confused. "Why?"

"I see," Iroh said, which was frustrating because Zuko didn't see at all. "I think you need to talk to her about your dream."

"What?" Zuko asked, recoiling. "No! I can't scare her away!"

At this, Iroh smiled. "Somehow I don't think you will. Talk to her," he said, standing and collecting his tea cup. "I will see you later, nephew," he added with a wink as he left the pavilion.

Zuko sat very still and didn't leave until nightfall.

* * *

The next day, Zuko found Katara walking along the edges of the pond in the royal courtyard. In the background, the palace guards were eyeing her uneasily. Zuko grinned- it was well known that this portion of the garden was reserved for the royal family only. Well known by everyone except Katara, it seemed.

The guards seemed unsure how to proceed. Katara was not Fire Nation royalty, but she w _as_ a war hero and (as it was rumored) a favored guest of the Fire Lord himself. Her confidence seemed the keep them at bay.

"How long has she been here?" Zuko asked mildly, making both guards jump and turn to the royal guiltily.

"Not long, sire," one mumbled. "Thirty minutes at most."

"We're very sorry, sire-" Began the other, but Zuko raised one hand and the poor man fell silent, blanching.

"It's fine," Zuko said, eyes on the waterbender. She'd spotted him and was waving him over, smiling. In one hand she held a loaf of bread, presumably to feed the turtleducks with. "She's somewhat of an exception."

"Yes sir," breathed one guard. "Thank you." Zuko walked off without another word, joining his friend.

"You look exhausted," he said bluntly.

"Hello to you, too," Katara smiled, tearing off a piece of bread and tossing it into the small pond.

"Have you been having those dreams again?" He prompted, wondering if maybe she would bring it up first and he wouldn't have to talk about himself at all.

Katara hesitated. "Yes," she admitted finally. "But that's not the most pressing issue right now."

"Oh?"

"I got a letter from Aang," Katara said, her eyes trained steadily on the duck pond.

"Oh," Zuko repeated, suddenly feeling sick. "What did he want?" He didn't mean to snap, but it came out hard and cool.

"He wants me to join him in the Earth Kingdom," Katara said, turning to face Zuko. She didn't bristle at his tone; instead her eyes searched his face, as if looking for something she wasn't sure she wanted to find. "He thinks my… diplomacy…. could be useful."

"I doubt that's really why he wants you there," Zuko grumbled. _You sound like a child, not a ruler,_ he chastened mentally. Altering his tone with some effort, he added, "What did you say?"

"I haven't said anything yet," she admitted. "I wanted to see what you'd say first."

"Why does that matter?" Zuko snapped. He immediately knew he'd been too harsh, but it was too late to take bake the words. Beside him, Katara recoiled.

"I made a promise," she retorted icily. "If you need me here, I won't leave."

"Who am I to keep the Avatar from his prize?" Zuko sneered. Katara froze, eyes alive with fury.

"I am not a prize," she hissed, and for a moment Zuko thought she might strike him. He wanted her too- he deserved it. What she did was worse.

She left without another word.

* * *

"Why is the Lady Katara packing?"

Zuko looked up from his studies, irritable at being disturbed and still more than a little mad at himself. In the doorway of his study stood Iroh, looking disappointed. _I don't need this,_ Zuko grumbled, shoving his stuff to the side with too much force. His ink bottle tumbled off the desk and clattered on the floor, spilling everywhere. Zuko ignored it.

"She's leaving," he said shortly.

"You're kicking her out?" Iroh asked, eyebrows raising.

"Of course not," Zuko scoffed. "She's going to join Aang in the Earth Kingdom."

"Ah. That's not the way she tells it," Iroh hummed. "May I?" He added gesturing to the chair opposite Zuko's desk.

"You spoke to her?" Zuko asked, blinking owlishly at Iroh in surprise. "What did she say?"

Iroh clicked in tongue in disapproval, motioning again to the chair. "Manners, Zuko."

"Please have a seat, _"_ Zuko ground out through clenched teeth. Iroh beamed.

"Much better! Ah, this one is very nice- quite easy on the old bones, you know-"

" _Uncle_ ," Zuko prompted. Something in his tone seemed to break through to Iroh, because he sighed and returned his attention to Zuko.

"I think you should ask her yourself," Iroh said, serious. "She seems to be under the impression you no longer have any need for her here."

"That's not true!"

"I suspected it might not be," Iroh smiled. "Why did you not just tell her that?"

"She's hard to talk to," Zuko grumbled. At Iroh's skeptical look, Zuko sighed and elaborated. "Well, I can't tell her, can I? She's with the Avatar. I can't ask her to stay with _me."_

"It would seem to me she should have some say in all this," Iroh mused. "But what do I know? I am just a silly old man." He flashed a winning smile at his scowling nephew. "Did you talk to her about the dreams?"

"No."

"Ah," Iroh nodded. "I did. I believe she might have some helpful insight for you."

"You- you _what_?" Zuko stammered, eyes widening. "Uncle!"

"Clean up your mess, Zuko," Iroh said peacefully, raising from his seat and nodding to the spilled ink. "If it stains, I'm sure you'll regret it." Then he was gone.

With a groan, Zuko got down and scrubbed the ink up, grumbling about cryptic, meddling relatives as he did so.

* * *

 _Katara opened her eyes- she was in a gilded cage, the swooping arches high above her. All around, swirling mists of many colors flitted close and then dove away, twisting around her ankles and skimming the bars of the cage._

 _"Unlock your cage!" They hissed, twisting closer._

 _Katara tried to open her mouth, to tell them it wasn't her cage at all, but couldn't speak. She put out both hands to ward them off, and was surprised to see her skin adorned with the familiar red markings of the Painted Lady._

 _"OPEN YOUR CAGE!" They screamed, growing even bolder. One hit her, knocking her over- in the mists she now saw faces, changing and morphing with anger._

 _"Your fault," they accused, spinning faster and faster._

I deserve this, _Katara thought, though she didn't know why. She was consumed with a terrible sinking feeling, a_ human _feeling that had no place in her heart, and yet there it was._ If I die, maybe he will live. _She did not know who "he" was, bus she knew instinctively that his death meant her failure. It terrified her._

 _"Stop!" Cried a figure. The mists vanished, and Katara was alone. From the floor of the cage, she saw a slim, masked form slink out from the trees. The shadows seemed to stick to him, as if begging him to return to hiding. He did not._

 _"Hello, little spirit," said a new voice. It echoed around them, pounding against Katara's ears and hurting her mind. She couldn't see the speaker, so she focused instead on the mysterious man from the shadows._

A shadow spirit, _some part of her whispered._ They're no good; he will not help you. _And yet when he met her eyes he looked… scared. Terrified, even._ Why is he here? _She wondered._ He clearly doesn't want to be.

 _"Finally, you have come to die," the invisible speaker said. He sounded amused. "To think that a healer was your weakness all this time. Ha! I will give you no second chance to remedy your mistake- love was the most foolish trap you ever stumbled into."_

 _"I don't need your chances. We'll make our own," the masked man said. His voice was familiar, and shook, but his hands were steady._

 _"You have not come to defeat fate," the voice sneered. "You have come to give it your life."_

 _And Katara knew suddenly, certainly, and irrevocably that the mystery voice was right. If he stayed, the masked man would die._

Run! _She tried to scream. Her revelation had filled her with a sudden icy terror that blinded her to her own peril._ Run! _Her mouth did not move._

 _Darkness crept along the edges of the clearing, making it hard to see. It crept along the edges of the cage and wove around the man's ankles. He shifted nervously, but did not back down. Then darkness filled the clearing, stifling all from view._

 _An awful silence filled the area; then one single, piercing scream of agony. The darkness receded; the masked man was left lying on the ground, horribly still._

 _With a pop, the door to the cage swung open. Katara raced to the man's side, yanking off his mask to check for any signs of life-_

 _-and found herself staring at a very familiar face. The mask tumbled from her hand, and that too-human heart broke._

* * *

Zuko paced outside Katara's door, running one hand through his hair nervously. It was late, and by all rights she was asleep, but the Fire Lord had no idea when she was leaving in the morning and he had to talk to her first. Taking a deep breath, Zuko turned and raising one hand to knock-

-and stumbled back in surprise as the door was yanked open by a panicked looking Katara. She recoiled in surprise when she saw him standing there, then relief crossed her face.

"Oh," she breathed. Then she pulled him close and hugged him hard, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"Hi," Zuko tried weakly, wrapping his arms around her. Her breath hit the side of his neck, making goose bumps race down his arms and his knees feel weak. "Are you okay?"

"It was just a nightmare," she mumbled against his neck, and Zuko realized for the first time she was shaking.

"C'mon," he said, worried. "Everything's okay." Gently he guided her back into her room and shut the door behind him. Inside, she leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees. Zuko sat next to her, so close that their shoulders touched. To his immense pleasure, she leaned into his touch.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Zuko asked after a moment. Katara was silent, and Zuko realized belatedly maybe it would be better to give her space to collect herself.

"I can go," he offered awkwardly. "We can talk in the morning."

"No," Katara said, too quickly. "No, let's talk now. Did you need to tell me something? Or do you always lurk outside my door late at night?" Her attempt at humor was undermined by the way her voice shook and her red-rimmed eyes.

"I just wanted to apologize," Zuko admitted. When Katara stayed silent, he carried on. "When you tried to talk to me this afternoon, I freaked out." He swallowed, and then added, "I don't want you to leave. If you want to, I won't stop you, but… you're always welcome here," he finished lamely.

"It's fine, Zuko," Katara sighed. She seemed steadier now that they were talking about the controllable present, which Zuko was thankful for. "I just don't understand why you would act like Aang was _entitled_ to me."

Zuko let out a deep breath, grimacing. _She deserves the truth. What do you have to lose?_

"He's the Avatar," Zuko began slowly, hesitantly. "He's the hero, he's the good guy. I assumed you'd want to be with him." Katara waited for him to carry on expectantly, so he did. "Besides, I don't deserve to get what I want. And I definitely don't deserve you." The last part came out so quietly, he almost wondered if she'd heard at all.

Then she slipped her hand into his. "You deserve more than you know," she said softly. "But regardless, this might change your mind."

For a moment Zuko thought she was going to kiss him, but instead she stood up and grabbed a scroll off her nightstand. "Here," she said, handing him the scroll.

"This is a water tribe legend," Zuko frowned, skimming the passage. "Why is this…" then he trailed off, taking a closer look at the legend. His eyes snapped back up to meet Katara's. "My dream- you've been-?"

"Your Uncle gave me that scroll," Katara said. She looked nervous. "I know it sounds stupid, but what if-?"

She trailed off, and for a moment both were silent.

"If we've both been having the same dream, it's worth looking in to," Zuko offered finally. Personally, he found it hard to believe- but then again, he'd seen weirder in his life. Besides, if it was true, then he had a chance with Katara. The thought made him feel dangerously happy.

"It doesn't matter to me if it's true or not," Katara admitted, returning to his side. "But, if you want, I could stay and we could look into it together."

Zuko recognized a peace offering when he heard one.

"Yeah," he said, giving her a rare smile. "I'd like that." Then, because he was drunk on his own happiness and the possibility of _them_ the little scroll offered, he leaned in and kissed her.

If the gods really were trying to make up from two lifetimes' of misfortune, Zuko figured they'd way overpaid. No _way_ did he deserve Katara.

 _And yet,_ he thought as he smiled into her kiss, _who am I to say no to happiness?_

* * *

In the other world, the spirits moved. The gods celebrated, joyful that their debt was repaid; they did not hear Shinigami's enraged scream.

* * *

 ***Answered reviewer's questions:**

 _ **Who was the narrator?**_

 **Katara and Sokka's grandmother.**

 _ **Was Shinigami supposed to be anyone in particular?**_

 **Yes, actually, though he wasn't anyone from the show. Shinigamis are Japanese Death spirits- although, to be fair, I did get that from the internet, so don't quote me on that one. I thought it added a neat, legend-y element to the story, anyway.**

 _ **Assorted requests/ inquiries about sequels:**_

 **I kind of doubt there's ever going to be a complete, full-length story exploring this idea. But I may write another "bonus scene" following this one. I do really love this AU, I just don't have a ton of free time these days. I did leave it purposely open-ended, though, so I guess we'll see.  
**


End file.
